


Ought To Corrupt You

by sternfleck



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Armitage Hux in Lingerie, Chancellor Ben Solo, Come Eating, Consensual Sex Pollen, Engineer Ben Solo, Established Relationship, Force Mysticism, Knifeplay, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Armitage Hux, Praise Kink, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Service Top Ben Solo, Sex Pollen, Slime, Supreme Leader Armitage Hux, Title Kink, soul mates kinda, they're basically married and very in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternfleck/pseuds/sternfleck
Summary: “You prepared for me,” Ben says, commanding and affectionate all at once. His mop of too-long hair is falling down into his pretty face, all starlight and shadow under the garden’s swaying trees, and Hux wants him, oh,stars,he’d give the Galaxy just to have Ben’s hands on him without cease.Well, not really. Ben is quite fond of their Galactic dominance. Even the influence of sex pollen can’t persuade Hux to think of throwing it away.-Role-reversed "Duel of the Fates" sex pollen smut. Supreme Leader Hux and Chancellor Solo enjoy a night of pleasure in their private garden, where the plants have unconventional and desirable properties.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 136





	Ought To Corrupt You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Will There Be Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076122) by [sternfleck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternfleck/pseuds/sternfleck). 



> I started writing this in early July, after [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/pseuds/surrenderer) went fairly feral over my previous role reversal fic, [Will There Be Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076122).
> 
> That fic took me two months to write, and I vowed I'd never write role reversal again. But surrenderer spent weeks being kind to me about this AU, asking for more until I'd have to be heartless to deny her what she wanted.
> 
> Nearly four months later, I've finished the fic we've been calling (for reasons which will become obvious) "the fuck garden fic"—as a birthday gift.
> 
> Happy birthday, and thank you for inspiring me every day. I'm immensely glad you were born.

When the Supreme Leader enters the garden, the flowers tremble. Long vines curl forth across the grass, ghosting over his bare ankles with a lover’s touch. The night-calling birds fall silent, their eyes moon-wide among the branches. And the Chancellor glances up from his datapad, his own eyes wide and dark and liquid in the gloom, his speckled face awed at the sight of Hux.

Hux’s command shuttle docked on Coruscant an hour ago. When the shuttle made its descent through Coruscant’s skies, the night on the Capitol side of the planet was already deep and black. As the craft plunged towards the planet’s surface, Hux stood at the shuttle viewport and admired the glittering city below, stretching to every horizon. As a child in the Unknown Regions, he swore to one day rule the Galaxy from its Core outward, and he’s secured his ambition, with the help of the man who looks up at him now as though Hux, clad in silk and lace, is the only thing in the Galaxy worth admiring at all.

Here in their private gardens, Ben has stayed up too late again working—and awaiting Hux’s return. Even after a decade as Hux’s companion, and three years as Hux’s Galactic Chancellor, Ben still offers Hux a simple, fierce loyalty that warms him at the mere thought.

In Hux’s head, the Force makes everything too complicated. There are layers to all things, ambiguities and nuances of shadow and light and energy and emotion. But Ben’s mind is not a complicated place, even for all its brilliance. The problems he solves—engineering, strategy, diplomacy, physics—dissolve into their simplest parts when he turns his attention to them. When Ben looks up at him like this, already lifting a hand to Hux’s waist, Hux imagines that perhaps things are simple for him, too, if he could only reach outside the spell of the Force and see the marvellous order Ben sees everywhere in his well-kept Galaxy.

The virtues Hux has reached for all his life—simplicity, order—have always slipped through his pale hands like the central essence of the Dark Side. He has his rituals, his daily Order uniform, his consistent routines, but whenever he achieves complacency with them, the Force shows him visions of Galactic chaos, as if to confound his attempts to escape it.

But not with Ben. Ben is his, completely, and Hux loves him for it. Ben gives himself to their Empire, and to Hux, with the calm sort of commitment Hux could never truly give to the Dark Side—or to any sentient creature other than his Chancellor.

The Force is uncontrollable, a grim mystery, a void in space not graced with stars. But with Ben, even the Force seems simple. It gives Ben pleasure when Hux lets its power flow into him, or when he uses it to pull Ben’s hands to where Hux wants them. Every time, Ben smiles his jagged, dimpled, rare smile and leans into Hux’s Force-grip as though it’s just another welcome touch on his scarless skin.

Now, amid the dark trees and soft grasses of the night garden, Ben puts his hands to Hux’s waist, to tug him close. The desk where Ben has chosen to work sits just past a stand of bushes heavy with egglike fruits, beneath a flowering tree with branches strung with lights. Hux dips his head to avoid the tree’s thick blossoms, letting Ben pull him into his lap. At this late hour, Ben’s hands are bare. He’s left his gloves in their chambers, and his skin is warm.

As Hux leans closer, he catches Ben's scent on the air. It's that soap he uses that smells like evergreen trees, the ones that grow in the centre of the garden, the ones that used to grow on Starkiller Base, where they spent their first nights together.

Where Ben’s hands rest on his waist, Hux's skin is bare, too. After disembarking in the palace hangar, Hux went directly to the refresher in their quarters, a hexagonal box from a fine Nabooian boutique tucked under one arm. In the interests of time, he took one of his military-length sonic showers—there will be time tomorrow to luxuriate in the long baths he’s come to prefer as Supreme Leader. He anointed himself with citron-scented oil in the important places, and dressed himself in these new shreds of lace that, improbably, make him feel far more like the ruler of the Galaxy than any of his ceremonial robes or battle cloaks.

This power is in the way Ben looks at him, like he’s looking now. Like he would serve Hux in all ways for all his life, without question. There’s power in war and slaughter, and power in the Dark Side of the Force, but even the Force makes it clear to Hux that Ben’s devotion and desire are a singular phenomenon, a formidable offering not to be taken for granted.

“You’re wearing your shawl,” Ben murmurs, eyes bright with awed desire as he traces his big hands up Hux’s back beneath the fabric. Under the sheer black cloth, Hux’s bralette and high-waisted underwear are a muted, pearly red. “You dressed up for me.”

Hux sighs. It’s an attempt at exasperation—he _always_ dresses up for Ben, and Ben, ridiculously, always acts surprised about it. But Ben’s hands are moving to the front of Hux’s body, thumbs grazing the edge of Hux’s nipples, and so his sigh flutters closer to one of need. 

“Your cat got hair all over my best robe,” Hux protests, to maintain his dignity even as Ben strokes his soft, sensitive belly and makes heat uncoil in the depths of it. “The droids will short their circuits, laundering it. This shawl was my alternative option.”

Ben frowns. “She likes you. She wanted to sleep there while you were gone.”

“She sleeps on the bed, Solo. With you.” Millicent always has, ever since Ben found her in a rubbish heap on Starkiller Base, a half-wild kitten dark and fluffy as a cinder. “Don’t tell me you were sleeping with my robe as well. You’ll ruin it. That one cost the First Order a disgraceful amount of credits. You have to be careful with it. It’s for admiring from afar, not...petting.” 

Ben pouts, caught out. His cheeks never flush the way Hux’s do, but in the Force around him, bashfulness blooms hot, and his eyes drop to his hands on Hux’s thighs. “The Order’s budget allows for your wardrobe,” he murmurs in his own defence. “I made sure, when I drew it up. You could get six more robes like that one by tomorrow.”

“You’d ruin them all.” Hux’s voice, accusatory, comes out gentler than he intended as he tangles his hand in Ben’s too-long hair. “You always do, when you get your hands on me. Beast.”

A stroke of the pad of his thumb across Ben’s temple, where the hair is silver as starlight in spite of his young face. Ben leans into the touch, his eyes falling shut.

Hux is so busy admiring the rare peace on Ben’s face that he almost doesn’t notice the bough of the flowering tree bending to brush Ben’s shoulder. The trees in this private garden, along with the other plants in it, have been acquired on Hux’s missions to planets far away, or through Ben’s diplomatic duties. Some vassal governments think it appropriate to send their dignitaries to the heart of the Empire with gifts...and Hux, in his travels throughout the Galaxy, has learned that many worlds have their own odd attitudes of what qualifies as an appropriate gift for their Supreme Leader and his Chancellor.

This tree, specifically, is evidence of the point.

Its flowers are red as Hux’s lightsaber, bigger than a fist, fluffy in texture, like puffs of fine fur. Each blossom sheds golden pollen over the grass, over the table where Ben has been working. The screen of his datapad, now dark with sleep, is glazed at the edges with a dusting of gold. The two lightsaber hilts next to it—one torn open to reveal the wiring and kyber within—are sprinkled with drifts of pollen, too.

Hux plucks a blossom from the branch at Ben’s shoulder, and lifts it halfway to the Chancellor’s lips, enjoying the way Ben’s eyes widen at the sight.

“Tonight? You want me to—”

Ben halts, gazing at the flower, then back at Hux.

“If you like.” Hux makes his voice sound more careless than he feels. “It was a long mission. You know how often I thought of you. How I missed this.”

Ben must know, because Hux can’t resist using the Force to drop into his head on late nights. He nearly always finds Ben thinking of him, awaiting his return. Ben has spent the past fortnight hearing too many of Hux’s thoughts on the future uses for the plants in their private garden. It’s practically impossible to keep from revealing his fantasies to Ben on those nights away, when their thoughts are intertwined as surely as their fortunes.

“If my Supreme Leader desires it.” Ben’s face is impassive, blank but for the awe in his eyes. His words, though, are laden with the significance of their years together. Ben would give Hux anything he desires. He’s always made every effort to do so. And Hux, for his part, has treated Ben well, too—though open devotion does not come as naturally to him.

“I do,” says Hux, not for the first time. “I want you to temporarily divest yourself of your self-control. All that careful discipline you’re known for. Get rid of it, and fuck me hard, until I’m properly yours again.”

Hux tries to sound commanding. But it’s been too long since he had Ben gazing up at him like this, and it's too hard to resist the temptation to tease. His voice comes out as more of a purr, and his fingers tremble where he holds the stem of the flower pinched between them. He could blame the tremor on the way the power of the Dark Side flows through him at all times, but really, his hands shake now because he craves to put them all over his Ben.

As if he’s noticed the tremor, Ben lifts his hand to Hux’s and closes his strong fingers around Hux’s wrist, stroking the pale inside with the pad of his thumb. “I want to,” he murmurs, lowering his big nose to the flower’s fluffy centre. “Want to give you everything. Remind you you’re mine.” His words are almost lost in the flower’s pollen-dusted petals as he nuzzles into its depths and breathes in, his eyes still locked on Hux’s.

By the time Hux brings the flower to his own nose to inhale, Ben’s gaze is dark. The Chancellor’s presence in the Force changes as the pollen enters his system and fills his head with thoughts that reach out like tendrils to draw Hux in.

Hux could fall more fully into Ben’s arms and let his shawl drift to the grass at his feet. He will, soon. But for now, he breathes in, too.

The grains of pollen hit his senses like the Force-signatures of an asterism’s worth of stars. Gold, sparkling gold, a scent of metal and of vegetable life, a scent of sweetness and musk and of salt like the taste of Ben. Hux shuts his eyes tightly and wrinkles his nose, trying not to cough. But the fluff of the flower tickles his nose and his lips, and, in spite of himself, Hux lets out a small, humiliating noise between a cough and a sneeze.

When he opens his eyes, he expects to see Ben fondly mocking him, perhaps with a stroke of his finger down the bridge of Hux’s pollen-dusted nose. But Ben’s attention is rapt, serious. Hux has his total focus.

Hux shifts his position in Ben’s lap, until the stiff line of Ben’s cock presses thickly against his inner thigh. At the new pressure, Ben’s breath changes, going uneven. He doesn’t look away, though. He only leans closer to Hux’s, until their noses touch. As though he’s asking for a kiss.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working, my Chancellor?” Hux leans back, fingers under Ben’s chin to hold him at bay. Teasing Ben is far too much fun, especially when every sign in the Force shows him Ben’s desire spiralling higher. He strokes his thumb over Ben’s lower lip, and Ben shows his teeth in a snarl, his expression somewhere between submission and frustration.

“I was. I was in the middle of my research on the physical mechanics of the Force in unbled kyber crystals. But you distracted me.”

That old petulance of Ben’s always simmers beneath his severe bearing. It’s almost sweet, how he pouts at being interrupted in his research even as he tilts his hips to rub himself more fully against Hux’s thigh.

Hux remembers the lightsabers now, sitting on the table next to Ben’s datapad. They’re behind him, within reach, but even the lightsaber clipped to the suspender belt at his hip feels light-years away. It’s as if all his battle training is fading into a hazy past as the pollen takes effect. Nothing seems important now except the elegant strength of Ben’s hands, the softness of his lips, the way the pale skin of his neck disappears promisingly beneath his uniform collar.

“What have you learned?” Hux breathes, leaning to kiss the silver in Ben’s hair, rolling his hips in Ben’s lap. At the new friction, Ben’s hands tighten at his waist. His voice is lower, hoarser, when he answers.

“I’d planned to ask you about this. I’ve been testing my Force realignment theories on the cores of the ‘sabers you brought me. Electrical currents should be able to change kyber alignment. I should be able to bleed them to the Dark Side without the use of the Force.”

Even with pollen on his nose (Hux kisses it away) and eyes as dark as space, Ben still speaks with military professionalism. He’s never more beautiful than when he talks like this, as though it’s an outrage that anything in the Galaxy escapes their control, even the laws of nature. All his unsatisfied ambition is pent up in his body, captured in his muscles as energy that Hux wants to absorb, to consume.

“If the Force can influence physical phenomena,” Ben goes on, “it has to be a physical phenomenon in itself. A law. With rules that can be measured, controlled.”

Hux has heard it before. Ben has entertained this curiosity about the Force for as long as Hux has known him. It’s one of the things he likes best about Ben—this insatiable curiosity, coupled with a desire to make things in the Galaxy _right_ , according to his high standards. When Hux recalls exactly how high these standards are, and how he himself consistently exceeds them, he can’t keep his hands from drifting to Ben’s collar, to unfasten the first clasps of his uniform and reveal the warm skin underneath. 

Ben shivers at the touch. The pollen has made Hux’s fingertips more sensitive than usual, and Ben’s skin is almost velvety, clean, just barely glazed with sweat as his arousal builds.

Hux sets about unfastening as much of Ben’s tunic as he can. It’s only when he makes it down to Ben’s belt, where a trail of dark hair crosses the plane of his abdominal muscles, that Hux realises Ben is staring at him expectantly, having just spoken.

“What did you say?” Hux’s cheeks burn less from embarrassment than from desire, though there is a pleasant shame in becoming so distracted by Ben’s body that he’s deaf to all around him.

Ben brushes Hux’s silk-covered shoulder with something heavy and metallic. When Hux glances down at it, he sees a lightsaber hilt taken from the table behind him. “Will you see if the crystals are altered?”

Though he’s reluctant to interrupt his project of undressing Ben, Hux accepts the hilt from his hand. It’s the one that Ben has opened up to show the wiring. A saber that once belonged to a Jedi. Hux doesn’t have to touch the crystal inside, or even look at it, to tell that it’s unchanged. The Light Side of the Force is strong all around it, strong enough to make Hux slightly nauseous.

Or maybe that’s the pollen. His thoughts have gone fuzzy, and the orbs of light suspended in the garden’s trees are suddenly far too bright. This is the most disconcerting part of their regular indulgences in the garden, when the pollen first takes hold and the world falls away to leave nothing in its place but pleasure. For a moment, Hux is without an anchor to weight his awareness to the present. But Ben’s neck is right there, perfect for Hux to bury his face in and kiss...

Ben makes a muffled noise of surprise as Hux’s open mouth grazes his collarbone, sharp teeth across soft skin. He’s still in his undershirt and blastproof vest, even where his tunic is open, so there’s not much skin bare for Hux to kiss. But he does his best, wetting his lips and not sparing Ben the teeth and tongue he likes. The Chancellor bruises so handsomely, after all.

“Thought you wanted to hear about my work,” says Ben, teeth clenched against any moans that might escape. “I take it the crystal is still not aligned to the Dark Side, then.” He retrieves the ‘saber hilt from Hux’s hand and sets it on the table again, his question answered by Hux’s refusal to acknowledge it.

Kissing him, Hux reasons, is better than telling Ben his plans haven’t borne fruit yet. A worthy consolation prize. After all, the mysteries of the Dark Side are profound. Hux would be a fool to expect Ben to succeed in his early attempts.

For one thing, there are too many distractions from their goal. On this most recent mission to the Outer Rim, Hux had to slaughter a cell of Resistance sympathisers and their children. War still casts a shadow over their life together on Coruscant. Ben still spends as much time designing weapons as he can afford to spend on his attempts to understand the Force.

Hux has done his part to crush the Resistance on the battlefield, but the great victories of the war have been technological ones—superlasers, hyperspace tracking, and now the Chancellor’s communications blockade, which goes far towards suppressing dissent. As Hux sees it, there’s no problem in their Empire Ben can’t solve with time. If Ben tries to understand the Force, he’ll be able to, especially with Hux’s help. They’ve conquered the Galaxy, after all. They’re still young. They have time.

“You’ll manage it,” Hux whispers against Ben’s neck, as he grinds down into his lap, using the Force to open Ben’s belt and tug his tunic away from his shoulders altogether. “You’re brilliant. There’s no one else in the Galaxy who could compare. Now, take this off, all of this. I refuse to be the only one putting in the effort to arouse tonight. Let me see your full glory.”

“Hux,” Ben moans, jerking his hips up at the praise. It’s been too long since Hux had Ben under him. Sending him datapad messages from afar just isn’t the same—he’s so responsive, so easy to tease, and watching him react is half the fun.

The other half is the way his muscles move beneath his skin as he undresses for Hux, and the way his mouth trembles as the pollen quickens his breath, and the way his dark eyes shine when Hux, at last, shrugs back his narrow shoulders and lets his shawl drift on the garden wind to the grass below.

“Supreme Leader,” Ben says, in a tone that suggests he’d drop to his knees if he weren’t sitting down. He’s growing desperate to have Hux in any way he can. The Force shows it clearly, how his need pours out of him and spirals into the air. He sweeps his big hands up Hux’s back, drawing him close. His palms are warm, callused in new places now from his regular lightsaber training.

Hux leans into his touch, the pleasure of it sparking through him. He can hear a sluttish moan that can't possibly be coming from his own mouth—but no, it’s him, of course it’s him. He’s always weak for clever, strong Ben, who has tied his life to Hux’s and given him so much. Hux isn’t one for sentiment, but he can blame the pollen tonight. When Ben’s mouth lands hot on his neck, he moans again, slotting himself against Ben so that their erections lie next to each other.

Everything in the garden is hot. Hux must be sweating, but it feels more like he’s graced with the dew of the grass, or the glimmer of the lights in the trees above. It’s hard to believe he just had a casual conversation with Ben about his research. He couldn’t do that now, only minutes later. All he wants is Ben’s body under his hands, Ben’s mouth everywhere, and that thick cock inside him, stretching him open until he can hardly breathe with the fullness of it.

“Please,” he hears himself say, but Ben is no better off, nuzzling into his neck and nipping at him in a frenzied, needy way. “Please fuck me, please, I want you so badly, I’ve missed you, _fuck_ , don’t just tease me, oh, _Chancellor_.” 

This, at last, gets Ben’s attention. He’s not fond of his name, with all its connections to his New Republic upbringing, which means the use of his title is a reliable way to make him do what Hux wants. With a last rough bite to Hux’s throat, he squeezes Hux’s hips, hard, before lifting him onto the table atop his datapad and lightsabers. The open workings of the ‘sabers press into Hux’s back; he arches his back and flicks his hand to slide them out from under him, tossing them carelessly to the grass below.

“You prepared for me,” Ben says, commanding and affectionate all at once. His mop of too-long hair is falling down into his pretty face, all starlight and shadow under the garden’s swaying trees, and Hux wants him, oh, _stars,_ he’d give the Galaxy just to have Ben’s hands on him without cease.

Well, not really. Ben is quite fond of their Galactic dominance. Even the influence of sex pollen can’t persuade Hux to think of throwing it away.

“Yes, yes, _please_ , it’s been weeks without you. You can’t imagine.” Hux is too far gone now, foolish in his words, nuzzling up to kiss Ben as he swings himself up on the table to cover Hux. “I had to use my toys every night. It was nothing like having you here.” 

Hux’s wide collection of toys have been made in imitation of the body parts of sentient creatures from all across the Galaxy. But none of the ersatz cocks or tentacles can begin to replicate the experience of being under Ben, claimed and kissed and held down with those strong hands.

Especially not when their garden’s plants are involved. Already, as the desire builds in his gut, Hux’s rational thoughts are giving way to fierce need. On the table, Ben’s weight on him is so sweet—but he needs more. Needs the slick hardness of Ben’s cock against his, between his thighs, stretching open his hole, spilling inside him.

Around the table grow a stand of plants with thick stems topped with aromatic cone-shaped flowers, the colour of the First Order’s flag. This planting is deliberate—these flowers also have aphrodisiac properties. One flower, squeezed in Ben’s hand, produces ropes of slick pink wetness, trickling over Hux’s thighs and belly and slicking Ben’s cock as he undresses the rest of the way. The silk of Hux’s underclothes is already wet with aphrodisiac slime, and the mess makes the fabric cling to his body. He must look a sight.

Hux would be terribly shy about being displayed in this way—spread on the table, dripping, ready for Ben to take him—but no one in their Empire has access to this garden besides the two of them. The Imperial couple. Chancellor Solo and Supreme Leader Hux. The power they wield over the Galaxy is enough to make another dizzy pulse of arousal shudder through Hux’s body. He curves his spine upward to present himself to Ben.

He hopes he looks inviting rather than desperate, but at this point, who cares? Ben is nearly as needy, though the pollen of this tree has a stronger effect on Hux than it does on Ben, because of his connection to the Force. This is what always happens on their nights together in the garden—Hux loses his hard-won composure and goes pliant under Ben, letting him do anything he wants, begging to be used.

It’s almost humiliating, in a nice way. Ben is always weak for him, but Hux doesn’t mind being the weaker of the two once in a while. His strength with the Force makes him formidable, but where aphrodisiacs are concerned, it makes him vulnerable. Hux is never vulnerable, except with Ben.

“Please,” Hux says again, rubbing against Ben’s hip. “Don’t you want this? You’re so hard for me, look at you, big and hard and perfect. Be a good boy and don’t waste time. We’ve only half the night left for you to ruin me.”

At the praise, Ben moans. His hips twitch, and his cock slides across Hux’s belly where it’s covered in the silk of his high-waisted underwear. Hux tangles his fingers in Ben’s hair and tugs Ben’s mouth to his, kissing him with bruising force, so that he moans again, from deep in his chest. He knows Hux likes to be thrown around without gentleness, and yet, Hux always has to demand rough treatment, or use the Force on Ben to make him comply.

Ben serves his Supreme Leader, but treasures him, too, probably too much. Hux never in his life expected to be treasured. They’re men of war. But Ben is soft, raised as he was in the New Republic. His soft hair, his soft eyes, the softness of his skin above his muscles...Hux opens his legs, wrapping them around Ben’s middle.

“Use your little knife,” he whispers against Ben’s neck, not caring at all for the safety hazards of playing with knives while under the influence of sex pollen and aphrodisiac plant slime. “Cut my clothes off of me. Oh, Chancellor. Please, sir, please, Ben.”

Ben’s hand spreads flat on Hux’s shoulder, heavy, pushing him down, as Ben raises his body up to stare down at Hux with darkened eyes. Under ordinary circumstances, Ben is competent, controlled, but now, he looks wild. Strands of black hair stick to his forehead with sweat. He leans away to pluck another cone-shaped flower from the stand next to the table.

“You want me to ruin you?” he asks, voice rough, as though he doesn’t already know the answer.

Even under the influence of an aphrodisiac, Ben has to be asked and ordered to fuck Hux. He’s too well-trained to take things further without Hux’s active encouragement, except when they’re both of sound mind and in need of some quick relief in one of the Capitol’s empty staterooms or meditation chambers.

Everything takes so much time with Ben, so many layers of saying _yes yes please yes now yes I want you_ to every touch and kiss and thrust. But Hux, for all his sexual experience with alien sentients, has never wanted any other human. Of all the people in the Galaxy, Ben, with all his caution and his care, is the only man Hux would ever let touch him this way, the only man Hux would ever allow to— 

“What in stars’ name?” Hux splutters, as his mouth fills with slime. Ben has squeezed the second slimy flower over Hux’s face and chest. The mucus is sweet, fruity-tasting, with a salty undertone that almost makes Hux gag as he swallows it down. But once the shock has worn off, Hux recognises the cleverness of Ben’s plan. This is precisely what Hux wants—to be so helpless with lust that he can only squirm and cry out as Ben takes him hard and marks him all over with kisses. His cock throbs under tight silk, hot and dripping against his stomach. He licks his lips, trying to raise his head to nuzzle Ben and spread some of the slime on his skin, too.

But Ben is still pinning Hux down by the shoulder, immobilising him. His brows are drawn together, and his lovely face has an expression of focus. He’s fumbling with his sleeve—Hux’s head is spinning too much to keep exact track of Ben’s movements—and then, like a trickle of water hitting his breastbone, something cool brushes Hux’s chest.

“Be still for me,” Ben murmurs, flicking open his monomolecular blade. “That’s good. Don’t want to hurt you, Supreme Leader.”

Hux writhes, chest heaving. It’s only Ben’s quick reflexes that preserve Hux from being nicked by the tip of the blade.

He doesn’t care. Pain strengthens his connection to the Dark Side. But nothing heightens his Dark Side powers like being with Ben. Now, with all his senses enhanced, including his Force sensitivity, Hux can practically fall into the well of Dark power that lives in Ben. He’s destroyed countless planets for their Empire, for Hux. Billions of sentient lives have been blown to dust at his command.

Hux throws his head back, panting—until, to his surprise, Ben’s voice calls him back from the depths of the welcoming Dark.

“Stop that,” Ben reprimands. “I want to do it. Don’t use the Force for this.” His words are sharp, but his tone is fond.

Hux glances up. The knife at his chest has extricated itself from Ben’s hand, and is now moving automatically up his sternum, slicing through the pale red silk. It moves to his shoulder, cutting through one strap of Hux’s bralette until his chest is left bare, the silk piece hanging by one strap only.

Ben frowns, almost pouting. “You can just fuck yourself if it’s so much nicer,” he murmurs, even as he grinds against Hux, harder than ever at the sight of Hux using his knife and the Force to undress himself. His eyebrows tilt, needy, and his grip on Hux’s ribs tightens as his body tenses with desire.

“It wasn’t deliberate,” Hux defends, but it takes all his conscious effort to override his deeper Force impulses and make the little knife fall still.

Ben reappropriates it, and moves his body down between Hux’s legs to do the same work on his underwear. He mouths at Hux’s cock through the slime-stained silk, his breath hot.

The knife slices through the silk as easily as plasma through flesh. Hux finds himself recalling his day on the battlefield, slaughtering rebels on that distant desert planet with no name. Violence done for his Empire—for his Chancellor. But he can't fall too far into memory, because Ben is watching him with those deep eyes, watching his every reaction. He presses the flat of the blade into the hollow of Hux's hipbone, where the skin is now bare.

The metal is cold, impossibly thin, and sharper than Hux's razors. Even as he recalls his Imperial power, Hux is aware of his physical fragility, too, under Ben. As Ben strokes the tip of the blade down to Hux's inner thigh, Hux struggles to get his breath. He's so hard, aching, at the thought of what Ben could do to him.

Ben could slice into Hux's skin, hurt him. Even the Force might not be able to preserve him from damage. Hux has seen what Ben can do when he chooses—the Chancellor, merciless, drawing his blade so quickly that it looks as though he's slain an enemy with nothing but a brush of his hand across an unsuspecting throat. Ben's brows always twitch together after, when he registers the wash of blood that's soaked his neat uniform. It's charming, and terrifying, and erotic, and _Ben,_ and oh, how Hux has missed him.

Hux remembers Ben removing his gloves after the last time he killed a vassal warlord— _the splash as they fell to the throne room floor, the way the fresh blood clung to the little hairs on the back of Ben's hand, the look in his eyes as he fell to his knees before Hux, like a knight_ —and his cock twitches so hard it makes Ben draw back, surprised.

"Careful," Ben breathes, holding the knife at a safe distance. But Hux doesn't want Ben to be careful. He wants Ben to take him, and claim him, and share with him all the blood and power they can win together, for all their days.

With reverence, Ben pulls the silk away from Hux's cock, unfolds it like the petals of a flower. Setting the knife aside, he noses along Hux's length, lapping at it where it's dripping on Hux's belly, making little moans with every taste. When Hux’s hand closes in his hair, he glances up, his eyes out of focus. A strand of saliva stretches between his reddened lower lip and the shaft of Hux’s cock.

“Show me,” Ben says. “Show me what you did today. To our enemies.”

It’s as though he’s read Hux’s mind. Perhaps Hux projected the thought through the Force. Or else their bond is closer than he realised. Ben often has a way of guessing his thoughts—and always wants to hear about the brutality Hux has wrought upon their enemies. Something about Hux in battle just does it for Ben, the same way Hux, when Ben destroys planets for him, is helpless to do anything but open his legs and moan praises into Ben’s ear.

It’s the power of the Dark Side. It unites them, forever, soul to soul. And what’s sweeter is that Ben has chosen this, chosen the Dark, chosen Hux. He could have kept to his New Republic origins, but instead, he’s sworn to spend his life in Hux’s service.

Hux has no illusions about the mechanics of Ben’s attraction to him. He’s dynamic where Ben is solid, his flexibility the natural complement to Ben’s stability. But it’s Hux’s command of the Force that awes Ben and keeps him loyal. Of course, Hux's beauty doesn't hurt, even with the little problem of his facial scar. And he's quite clever, too, clever enough to keep Ben on his toes.

With the Force, Hux pulls Ben’s body up to cover him again. He takes Ben’s face in his hands, stroking over his silver temples, pouring the memories of battle into his head.

_A landscape of sand, pearly and squeaky-fine under Hux’s boots. Tree trunks, pale and long dead and solid as durasteel, coated with the planet’s pearly dust, gleam in the dim and tripled light of greenish suns. Hux flows between the trees like water, casting a shadow that moves uncannily between the shadows of trees and other creatures._

_In these trees hide Rebels, or traitors, or enemies of a sort. The Order’s intelligence apparatus has confirmed it. Hux, a precision weapon, has only to cast his mind out across the petrified forest to see the Force signatures of the enemies where they hide. Centuries ago, this planet was consecrated to the Dark Side, though the Rebels, Force-null and unschooled in the ancient ways, have no way to know this. They will recognise it, though, when Hux enters their hiding place and shows them a power beyond any they have known._

_A hiss. His ‘saber ignites. Red light on soft pearlescent shadow. He hunts. He will find the Dark artefact he seeks, and kill anyone who fails to show their Empire proper respect in thought or deed. He, alone, will leave this dead forest alive._

“You still—” Ben mouths at Hux’s neck, a long, slow kiss, and points to his lips when he pulls away. In the glow of the hanging lights in the trees, his mouth faintly sparkles. Hux’s hasty minute in the sonic failed to get rid of all the planet’s dust. “You taste like war,” Ben says, with reverence. “Supreme Leader.”

“Yes, yes, well.” Hux has no time for titles, even affectionately given. He wraps his legs tighter around Ben. “You’ve seen my day, now.” Through the Force, he sends Ben an image of one of his kills, a man splayed wide-eyed on the sand, fading, run through. Ben shivers, not with fear.

It feels like their moment of Force connection has slowed them down, slowed down the flow of the pollen through Hux’s system. When he grinds against Ben this time, it’s lazy, languid, the pleasure almost overwhelming. It might be the flower slime, too—it takes more than just pollen to quiet Hux’s thoughts and bring him fully into his body. But now, at last, he’s almost calm.

He slides a hand down between their bodies, over his slick stomach, to where Ben’s cock rests between his legs. It throbs in Hux’s palm; he strokes away the drips of liquid from the head and Ben shivers again, moaning into the juncture of Hux’s neck and shoulder. Ben gives a little cry, like a plea, when Hux adds the Force to his touch, to heighten Ben’s pleasure. Hux runs his other hand down Ben’s back, stroking him.

Only his Chancellor gets to see Hux like this, bare and soaked with pink mucus from the aphrodisiac flowers. He probably has pollen on his face, if Ben hasn’t kissed it away, and his neck is still dusty from his day of slaughter in the pearly desert across the stars.

And Ben—Hux tugs him up with the Force to get a better look at him—Ben is a sight, too. His hair is a mess, his eyes are dark and wanting, and his shoulders and chest are slick from the slimy flowers, too.

Hux wants to lick the floral residues away and fall deeper into his own desire, but he wants Ben’s hands on him too, and his cock, and his mouth, and Ben's mind, his Force-presence. On nights with Ben, Hux is never sure where to turn. There’s too much to appreciate about him.

Enough foreplay. On the table like this, Ben can’t be as rough with Hux as Hux would like. It’s time to move inside, to the bed. Hux broadcasts the thought into Ben’s head—an image of himself splayed on their sheets, wrecked and filthy, covered in bruises and bites from Ben’s ungentle handling.

At the thought, Ben grins, a wicked flash of a smile. His hands close around Hux’s upper arms, and he sits up, hauling Hux with him. Ben may not have use of the Force, but he’s strong where Hux is delicate, and can lift Hux easily.

But Ben doesn’t take Hux through the sliding doors back into the bedchamber. He pulls Hux to his chest and takes him in the opposite direction, deeper into the garden, where the scent of flowers gives way to shadow and loam and the smell and sound of running water.

Hux had wanted a fountain in their quarters, but Ben had vetoed the idea on the grounds that it would be a waste of resources to keep such an edifice clean. In the garden, however, Ben had surprised Hux by signing off on the construction of a stream. Along the sloping banks, the ground is covered with soft moss, which means Hux can sit next to the stream without harsh grasses irritating his skin.

Even so, before Ben lays him down, Hux summons his shawl from where he left it beneath the pollen tree. He uses the Force to spread it on the grass. It’s wide and long, the right size for him to lie on and curl his body into a crescent as he slides the surviving strap of his bralette down his arm to his wrist. He tosses it away, then, left bare, gazes invitingly up at Ben.

Ben is already settling down above him. He slides his hands up Hux’s thighs. “This is what you wanted,” he murmurs, before mouthing at one of Hux’s hard pink nipples. “For me to take you somewhere I could be rough with you. Right?”

“How did you—?”

“The pollen makes your thoughts...loud. I can hear them. It amplifies your Force strength.” He pauses, a note of envy in his voice. “This must be what it’s like for you all the time. Hearing what’s in everyone’s heads.”

Again, Hux brings his hands up to Ben’s temples. But this time, he doesn’t enter his head with the Force. He simply strokes Ben’s hair, and watches as those handsome liquid eyes fall shut with pleasure.

“Nobody’s thoughts are of much interest,” Hux reassures him. “Except yours. And mine, which I give you.”

“You give me what I’ve always wanted,” Ben whispers, dropping down to press his body to Hux’s. At the confession, Ben casts down his eyes, shy. But he doesn’t take back his words, either. There would be no point. Hux can see in Ben’s mind how much he craves to be united with the birthright he was born without.

As much as Ben craves the power of the Force for his own, his love for Hux is more than covetousness. When he speaks these words of praise, he speaks of more than the Force. He wants Hux, all of him. Hux has seen in his head the dreams Ben held close during the lonely years before they met, when he longed idly for someone sharp and powerful to be his equal. But Hux is more than his equal. He’s Ben’s complement in every way. The Force has brought them together, and their combined power is greater than any in the Galaxy’s history.

The pollen must be amplifying these thoughts, too, Hux realises. That’s why Ben is looking down at him, dark-eyed, heavy above him. That’s why Ben is harder than ever, and why he now raises up to pull Hux’s thighs apart and slip a finger inside him, where he’s already loose and wet. Hux gasps, and his gasp trails off into a whine.

“No one is more powerful,” Ben snarls, quiet as breath. His other hand is a vise around Hux’s thigh, bruising, even as his eyes soften with awe. “I’ll give you what you want, Hux. My Supreme Leader. Going to make you see stars.”

It’s a silly thing to say. After all, Hux can already see the stars they rule. Above the treetops, the roof of the garden is a transparisteel dome, and even in Coruscant’s bright night, a few of the brightest celestial objects are visible from here. These are _their_ stars, the ones they rule together. Hux throws back his head and lets himself fall under Ben’s power, losing himself to the pollen and the flowers and the sound of water, the strength and warmth of Ben’s hands, the lapping of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth along the soft insides of Hux’s thighs. 

His fingers are thick inside Hux, rubbing at his prostate. Hux doesn’t need any preparation, and if he were in his usual state of mind, he’d order Ben to hurry up. But Ben is sucking a bruise into the top of his thigh, and the night is full of colour and sensation, and Hux can only arch his back on his bed of silk and moan as Ben strokes him inside, taking him closer and closer. 

“You’re so soft and wet,” Ben murmurs. “So open for me. You want to be used, don’t you? Want me to take you and come inside you? Will you let me, Supreme Leader? Will you be good?”

Hux bites at his own wrist, trying to gain some sense of reality amidst the blinding pleasure of Ben’s fingertips against his most sensitive spot. Ben, as promised, has him seeing stars—Hux’s Chancellor has always delivered on even his boldest claims, in love and in war. And this is before he’s even put his cock inside Hux.

When Hux tenses his belly muscles and sits up to get a look, Ben meets his eyes. He looks feral, like a monstrous thing, a far cry from his sharp and well-ordered beauty on ordinary occasions. Ben’s shaggy hair is more of a mess than ever, with the front in disarray from rubbing his face on Hux and kissing him in all his soft places. Hux has to sink down again, dizzy at the thought of the marks Ben’s greedy kisses must have left on his skin.

Ben crooks his fingers, rubs Hux just the right way to make him half-scream with pleasure and fist his hands in the silk beneath him. “Please,” Hux cries, begging for more or for mercy—but Ben only licks a long, slow stripe up Hux’s cock and takes him into his hot mouth at the very moment he slides a fourth finger inside him. The stretch of it is an aching bliss, and Hux’s orgasm takes him by surprise, making him shake and cry out in a voice that doesn’t sound like his own.

When his awareness returns, Ben is kissing him with a mouthful of come. It’s filthy and shameless and Hux wants more of it. His orgasm has only intensified his lust—this is how it always happens on their garden nights, when the more they touch, the more they want of each other—and when Ben tugs his thighs up and angles Hux’s hips to enter him, Hux moans into his mouth and accidentally swallows some of his own spend. Ben has a way of making him feel used, and making him love it.

Even with the preparation in the refresher after the sonic, plus Ben’s four fingers and an orgasm to relax him, Hux still loses his breath at the stretch of Ben’s cock inside him. He’s so big, so heavy on top of Hux, and when Hux lifts his hips, Ben gasps. Through the Force, Hux can feel Ben’s pleasure, the hot silky tightness around his cock. Hux is still fully hard after his orgasm—another effect of the pollen. Ben will come inside him until they’re both spent, and tomorrow, Hux will be sore, in his stretched hole and on his bruised hips and around his shoulders, where Ben is holding him down with all his weight, hissing incoherent praises into Hux’s ear.

“You’re so good,” Hux murmurs in return. “So good, and big, and—ah, _fuck!_ —there’s no one else I’d allow to—” 

“That’s right,” Ben hisses, losing his tight composure at last and fucking into Hux hard, with his full weight behind it. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to see how desperate you get for me. When I destroy planets and you watch from afar, you—nnh—come all over yourself from the power of the Dark Side, my power—you’re so hot and tight, fuck, _how_ are you so—ah, _perfect_ , so perfect for me, Hux.” 

Hux _feels_ perfect, with how Ben’s cock fills him so completely that he can’t help but be driven closer to a second orgasm with every thrust. Ben knows his body so well at this point, but even if he didn’t, he’s so big that it would be impossible for him to miss Hux’s most sensitive places. Hux drags one hand down Ben’s back, across his buttocks and thigh, then down behind his own back, to tease at the puffy rim of his hole where Ben is stretching him open. But Ben pushes into him harder again, and slides his hands down Hux’s arms to draw his wrists up and pin them on either side of his face, so that Hux can only moan and arch his back and wrap his legs around Ben’s hips, tight. 

“You dressed up for me and cut off your clothes with my knife, with the Force.” Ben is still talking, in his wonderful voice gone low with lust. “You _knew_ what that would do to me. And you smell so fucking good, you smell like fruit or something, but like blood and war, too—ah, _Hux_ , you killed a whole planet’s worth of traitors and Rebel scum, for our Empire, for _us_...fuck, I missed you, I _wanted_ you, and now you’re here.” 

Hux doesn’t typically hold with such affectionate talk in bed. But, after all, tonight, they’re not in bed. The warmth of the ground seeps up through the silk at Hux’s back, echoing Ben’s warmth on top of him. He missed Ben too, spent the long nights on his shuttle thinking only of Ben’s weight on him, his big hands, his soft eyes. Now, he struggles against Ben’s hands on his wrists, just to feel his own helplessness under Ben’s strength, and whines when Ben kisses his scar, then his lips, hard enough to bruise.

 _I’m here,_ Hux says into Ben’s head, speaking more in image than in words. _I’m here, and you’re mine, and you belong to me, to the Dark Side._ Ben moans into his mouth, and, with a rush of transmitted triumph, Hux receives an image of a golden city that exists no more—Coruscant as it stood in Ben’s youth, as part of the New Republic. This planet is nothing like it was then. Now all its temples are razed and its towers lie in the shadow of their Capitol. Ben is nothing like he was then, either. He chose the Dark, and Hux gave him the corruption —the salvation—he craved. 

_You belong to me,_ Hux says again. _My New Republic good boy, gone to the Dark. That’s right, make me come, be good, yes, Ben, give me what I need._

Ben whines, his thrusts going uneven, so Hux, as he often does, adds a push of the Force around Ben’s hips, to keep him fucking deep into Hux. He uses the Force to tug Ben’s hair, too, for good measure, and Ben moans into Hux’s neck, making that wonderful, helpless sound he always makes when Hux uses the Force to play with him. Hux may be the one pinned under Ben, getting the breath fucked out of him until he can’t even move or speak, but the Force gives him total control, and Ben, for all his military brilliance and physical power, comes hardest when he cedes control to Hux.

Hux enters Ben’s mind again, passing through the haze of his sensation and need and awe and affection, to his deepest parts, where pleasure uncoils nerve-raw in the depths of him. In the Force, it’s like a string to pluck or a soft place to stroke, and it only takes a gentle brush of Hux’s will to make Ben shudder against him and come, hot and sticky inside of Hux, filling him.

But Hux is not ready for this to be over yet—as Ben still trembles above him, Hux strokes over that golden spot in his mind again, and Ben curses as he comes a second time. His hands on Hux’s wrists are bruisingly tight, and he’s buried his nose in Hux’s hair, his breath halted by the strength of his climax.

“Good boy,” Hux says out loud, in a wrecked voice he doesn’t recognise. “Now put your hands on me, please. Or your mouth. I want to come.”

For a long moment, Ben doesn’t move. He’s breathing again, though, which is a promising sign—Hux tends to forget the risks of using the Force to influence people’s heads, though he’d never hurt Ben with it. Slowly, Ben pulls out of Hux, peels his fingers away from Hux’s wrists and raises up onto his hands, then shakes his head to clear it. The silver hair at his temples is wet with sweat, and Hux cranes upward to kiss him there. At the touch of his lips, Ben shivers. When he opens his eyes, they’re still dark, awed, with that odd young innocence his face always holds when he looks at Hux.

Thoughts flash into Hux’s mind—impressions sent from Ben. Tenderness, exhaustion, continued arousal from the plants they've shared tonight. The image of Hux’s face, his scar as pink as the blush on his cheeks, a lighter shade than his kiss-bruised lips.

Ben could look at Hux like this forever, that much is clear. But Hux is still hard from Ben fucking him, and needs to come.

“Down,” he orders. “Fingers inside me again, and put your mouth on my cock.”

Ben is fond of this, of tasting Hux. In the evenings, after their meetings are done for the day, Ben sometimes spends hours in bed with Hux’s cock or fingers in his mouth, while Hux reads reports on his datapad and strokes Ben’s shining hair. He has a fixation of sorts, and Hux is happy to benefit from it.

Ben moves down Hux’s body, kissing his collarbones, licking and sucking at his nipples until they’re achingly hard. He sucks a hungry bruise into Hux’s slime-slick belly until Hux’s thighs tremble and he has to bite his forearm to keep from coming untouched. At last, at last, Ben’s mouth brushes over the head of Hux’s cock, blissful and hot—but just as Hux lifts his hips to slide deeper into that warmth, Ben pulls Hux’s thighs apart and moves lower, licking down his perineum to where his fucked-out hole is still full with Ben’s come.

Hux should have expected this, should have used the Force to guard himself against the overwhelm of Ben licking into him where he’s already so sensitive and stretched. But he can’t bring himself to diminish any of this devastating sensation. He can only squirm under Ben’s hands and make little sounds of wanton need.

Ben’s mouth is soaking wet, and he doesn’t even try to keep saliva from dripping down Hux’s buttocks onto his silk shawl. Ben is cleaning him up, but it still feels filthy, because Ben is so hungry for it, like the sex pollen and flower slime have awakened a fierce appetite that even a double orgasm can’t suppress. He moans into Hux’s hole, a low moan that’s almost a growl, licking into him, nipping at Hux’s thighs, sliding his big hands up towards Hux’s hips until finally, _finally_ , he wraps Hux’s cock in his hot palm and gives him one long, firm stroke—all it takes for Hux to come a second time. 

His orgasm goes on and on, prolonged by Ben’s tongue inside him and his grip on Hux’s cock. The darkness behind Hux’s eyes is as starry as their Empire, and the sounds Hux is making are wrecked enough that Ben growls again, pleased with himself. As Hux still twists with pleasure, Ben nuzzles Hux where he’s licked and bitten him, rubbing his face on the inside of Hux’s thigh, and then, torturously, he slides two fingers inside Hux again. He scissors them to stretch Hux open, and then, with terrible precision, he strokes over Hux’s prostate.

“Fuck,” Hux cries, out loud or through the Force, or both, as he spurts again over his belly, and then a third time, weakly. “Ben—I’m—aah, how could you, _ah_ —so good, you’re so _good_.” 

Hux doesn’t have to open his eyes to know Ben is smiling, his rare, real smile that only Hux ever gets to see. He didn’t realise he’d been clenching his fists in the silk of his shawl until he brings his hands up to tangle them in Ben’s hair. His heart still pounds, and the Force shows him that Ben is still aroused as well. But when Hux opens his eyes, the sky beyond the garden’s treetops is going pink behind the transparisteel above.

It’s morning. They’ve spent all night pleasuring each other, and now it’s dawn.

In a few hours, before lunchtime, they’ll have to make an appearance at an event for a tiresome visiting delegation from Ben’s home planet of Chandrila. Ben will wear his uniform cloak and his inscrutable expression, and only Hux will be able to tell how badly he wishes he could snarl in the diplomats’ faces and kill them on the spot.

In this, Ben is a talented statesman. He doesn’t need to use the Force to school his expressions, the way Hux does. But then, Hux has never had to be as patient as Ben. No one in the Order blinks twice if Hux runs a vassal warlord through with his lightsaber. They’re used to Hux skimming their thoughts and passing judgment. Those whose loyalties are pure will always be safe in their Empire, while traitors will perish. But Ben doesn’t have the luxury of reading minds—except for Hux’s, when Hux projects his thoughts, like he’s doing now.

Ben is still smiling, still stroking Hux’s thighs with one hand as he wipes his mouth with the back of the other.

“I like when you do that,” he murmurs. “Feels like you want to take me into your mind, the same way you take me into, well. You know.”

Ben’s smile widens, and for a moment, messy-haired and cast in the pink light from the sky, he looks terribly young. A sweet boy, fresh from the New Republic. Perfect for Hux to drag into the Dark and ruin, just as he did all those years ago, when Ben was only General Solo and Hux was only the Supreme Leader’s apprentice.

It may be dawn, it may be only hours before they have to dress and play nice with the surviving political figures of Ben’s past, but Hux has no intention of wasting his reunion with his Chancellor—and the last of their hours under the influence of the pollen—on such a petty chore as sleep.

Hux waves his hand. Beyond the garden, back in the spacious refresher in their quarters, a bath stopper drops down and a tap turns on, steaming hot.

His other hand still strokes Ben’s hair, putting the mess of it back into a kind of order. He tugs slightly, enough to make Ben’s eyes shine and his eyebrows tilt with need.

“You’re going to take me inside,” Hux says. “You’re going to sit me on the counter in the ‘fresher while the bath fills up, and you’re going to let me touch you everywhere, until we’re both hard again. Then we’ll wash each other. We’ll end up clean, even when we can’t keep our hands off each other.”

As he turns his face to lean into Hux’s touch, Ben considers this proposition. His mouth falls open, showing sharp teeth, when Hux pets him along his jaw. Perhaps it’s only the fading effects of the pollen, but something twists in Hux’s chest as he remembers, all over again, just how lovely Ben is to touch and hold, and how loyal Ben is to Hux—how much he enjoys it.

“Efficient.” Ben’s voice is a faint whisper against Hux’s palm. “A strategy worthy of the Order’s best.”

He finishes his words with a nuzzle, a kiss to Hux’s fingers, but makes no move to get up. Instead, he sucks Hux’s fingers into his mouth. His eyes shut as he savours the taste of whatever mixture of fluids has ended up on Hux’s hands at this point. His mouth is hot inside, and beautifully soft. Hux’s cock throbs at the sensation, and he marvels at the continuing effects of the pollen in his system.

It occurs to Hux that if Ben is left to his own desires, they’ll be here for hours while Ben sucks his fingers. They have things to do. They have an Empire to run, and, where affairs of state are concerned, Ben is the one who has to run it. They can’t spend all day by the garden’s stream under dark and fragrant boughs.

So Hux, with reluctance and no small degree of lust, pulls his fingers out of Ben’s mouth with a wet-sounding _pop_. “Will you?” he asks, sitting up on his elbows and letting a playful tone slip into his wrecked voice. “Will you execute my strategy, Chancellor?” 

Ben’s voice is hoarse, too, when he replies. His face breaks into another of his guileless smiles.

“Oh, Hux. You never get tired of hearing it, do you?”

He pulls Hux into his arms, wrapping him in his shawl as he goes, as though modesty or cold could ever be an issue here in their private gardens. Hux lets Ben handle him, and wraps his arms obediently around Ben’s neck as Ben gets to his feet and lifts Hux up. He’s not sleepy, exactly—he’s still far too wired on the pulsing thrill of the pollen to fall asleep—but there’s a comfort in being held close in Ben’s arms.

When, on the way back into their quarters, Ben wraps his arms tighter around Hux and says, “Supreme Leader, for as long as I live, I will,” it’s in a whisper so quiet it could almost be the Force in Hux’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> Could not have written this fic without inspiration from [Ambrosia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17823572) by thesevioletdelights, which, as far as my opinion goes, is the gold standard of Kylux sex pollen fics.
> 
> In keeping with the song-related title of my previous fic in this AU, the title of this fic is from "[Never Look Away](https://open.spotify.com/track/6W1nhifdBrLkJbrmiwMfIF?si=5QSo5MUVRgWNaTs_xB5KJg)" by Vienna Teng, which is a spot-on song for these two, I think.
> 
> You can talk with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sternfleck) and on [tumblr](https://sternfleck.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [to lay your armor down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28206702) by [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/pseuds/surrenderer)




End file.
